The Macroverse Beyond Derry
by the Last Flowerchild
Summary: An alternate ending to the Loser Club's 1st victory over It--what if It had won? What if Henry had carried out the revenge that he so desperately wanted? Will Bill triumph over the ghost of his brother, Georgie? Maybe, maybe not...
1. Chapter 1What Became of Stanley Uris

**Chapter 1**

It all happened so quickly for Stanley; one second he was tailing his friends, his flashlight aimed down at the dampness that covered the ground, and then he felt a hand enclose around his wrist, dragging him away, away from his friends and into the darkness that existed out of his flashlight's golden light. He could not scream; as soon as his mouth found the realization to open, a hand, one that smelled of dirt and felt sticky with sweat, closed around his mouth and an alarmingly pleasant voice sounded in his ear.

"Hi, kid. I, uh, guess you're the first."

And audible click could be heard, and as Stanley dared to open his eyes he saw the silvery and ominous glinting of Henry Bowers' knife through the dank and scarce light of the sewer. A sudden stink filled his nostrils as there came the sound of a particularly good burp. Stanley shifted slightly and was unpleasantly surprised to see Belch Huggins grinning at him.

Henry let out a horrible laugh and his eyes grew wide, so wide that Stanley could just see in their glimmering, endless depths a certain trace of something..._something..._

_ That's the crazy, _he thought wildly, _Bill always said that he had cracked his nut, but I had never really thought that it was honest to God true...now I'm going to die...I'm going to--_

Henry grabbed his shoulders and gently guided him backward, until his back was against a pipe. Belch held Stanley's arms behind his back tightly as Henry pressed the blade of the knife against Stanley's white shirt. Stanley closed his eyes tightly, expecting to feel a horrible stabbing of pain as Henry's blade ripped through his skin, but instead he heard a distant little plunk and felt Henry flick his wrist.

With each flick of his wrist Stan felt one more of his shirt's buttons fly off, forever lost in the sewers beneath Derry. Then he heard the soft, calculatingly cold voice of Henry speak, his voice echoing throughout the sewer, "Now, before you die, I want you to think about every rock you threw and everything you've said. I want you to think about that before you die."

Stanley's eyes were open now, staring in fear at Henry. He struggled against Belch's grip, panting desperately. _I don't want to die, not like this...oh, where are the others? Haven't they noticed that I'm gone by now? Please, God, please don't let me die!_

"Well, Rockman, are you thinking? Maybe if you start thinking then I might let you live..."

Though Belch's fingers that were covering his mouth, Stanley still managed to say in a cracked, muffled voice, "Y-Yeah, Henry, I'm thinking, I promise. Please don't--"

Before he could even finish this last thought, Henry had let out a roar of fury and forced the blade into Stanley's chest. At that moment everything seemed to go gray for Stanley, and almost as soon as the blade was retracted from his quivering frame, he felt a huge and gnawing stab of pain. Everything he knew began to fade, and it was at that moment that he lost his grip on reality.

_No, _he thought as he felt Henry press the blade to his chest for a second time, _No, this isn't real...Bill, Richie, Ben, Mike, and Bevvie will be here any second to...to..._

Distantly Belch's cry of, "Jeezum-crow, Henry! Whatchu doin'?! I thought we was just messin' around is all!"

There was that pain again, and through Stanley's closing eyes the world gave out one final flash of color, a blinding and heart stopping flash of blood red, before returning to first gray again, and, just as his eyes closed for the final time, black. After about a full and excruciating minute, however, the pain ebbed all together and Stanley was left with an oddly empty feeling.

Henry's voice pierced his brain, annoyingly and surprisingly loud, saying to Belch, "You idiot, did you think that I was _joking? _Did you think that I followed the pricks down here to give them a friendly warning and that was it?"

"Well I didn't think that you'd kill 'em, Henry. Jeez, I ain't so sure about all this now..."

"You wanna back out now? Fine!" Henry snapped. Stanley could just hear the boy's footsteps as he walked away. There was a moment of silence and Stanley could feel Belch's almost comfortingly warm breath on his cheek before he too rose to his feet and walked off.

Once they had gone Stanley allowed himself to finally let a few tears slip past his closed eyes. He cried, but oddly enough he tears that crept their way down his cheek didn't possess the warm quality that most tears had. They were cold. His whole frame lay there, on the ground of the sewer, quaking and cold.

Stanley let out one last breath of precious air and felt the pain that he thought had left return, this time coursing not just in a few places, but throughout his entire failing body. He felt it most just above his navel and in his right side, somewhere between his ribs he guessed, but Stanley supposed that it really didn't matter much. He supposed that nothing really mattered much in the end.


	2. Chapter 2A Sudden Realization

**Chapter 2**

As the rest of the Losers Club trudged through the sewers, Bill couldn't help but feeling that something was indeed amiss. When they had reached a point at which he knew that he was safe from the rushing currents of the sewer, he stopped and turned.

"What's going on?" the voice of Richie blurted. Everyone jumped a little, the mere noise of something louder than the rushing sewer waters surprising them, and glared in whatever direction they thought that the voice had come from. Bill shined the flashlight around, illuminating the faces of his friends.

He frowned as he mentally checked off the names and faces; _Richie; check. Mike; check. Ben; check. Bevvie; check. Eddie; check. Stanley...Stanley?!_

"Wh-Wh-Where is Stan?" he asked suddenly. Again everyone jumped slightly, startled at the abruptness in his voice.

Bevvie looked around, her eyes full of fear. "Oh no! Have we lost him?"

Ben frowned and looked back. He squinted his eyes and tried to peer back into the darkness of the tunnel. "Oh no! I can't see him!"

Richie gasped and pushed past Ben. "Move out the way, Haystack. Let the the professionals handle it." then he turned towards the darkness that lay behind them, cupped his hands to his mouth and called as loudly as he could, "STTTTANNNNLEEEEEEEY! Where are you?!" his only answer was a loud, echoing repeat of the question.

Bill's eyes grew wide with fear as he lunged forward and pressed a hand over Richie's mouth. "W-W-what are you _t-t-t-thinking, _Tozier?"

Richie ripped his friend's had away from his mouth and adjusted his glasses on his nose. "I was thinking that standing here won't get Stan the Man back!" he snapped. "We have to find him, Bill, we _have _to!"

"Oh, man!" Mike howled as panic overtook him, "What are we gonna do?"

Bill stepped back and with a look of grave seriousness and shined his flashlight down the dark tunnel. He gasped a little as he felt Bevvie's hand brush his own and heard her gentle voice whisper, "Bill, we can't leave him there, we just can't. We have to go and find him. Please, Bill, please."

Through the incredibly dull and almost nonexistent light of the sewer, he could just make out Beverly's face, especially her teary eyes, which were full of admiration and fear. He swallowed and felt a lump forming in his throat. The gentleness of her voice was just what he needed to get him thinking clearly, to get his mind out of the fog that had slowly been closing in around it, holding it hostage, for the past few hours. It was welcome and warm. It was something that he loved.

Just for one fleeting second Bill ignored his the survival instinct that had taken center stage in his mind and followed the whispering voice of his heart, the voice that told him to get his friend back. He nodded firmly, turned to the rest of his friends, and said with an oddly level voice, "Okay, w-we're going to have to sp-sp-split up if we want to find him in t-t-t-time."

"You mean before It gets him?" Eddie asked. He was panting heavily now, gasping for air. Instinctively he reached into his pants pocket and brought out his asthma inhaler. He pressed it to his lips, inhaled the medicated mist, then returned it to his pocket.

Bill nodded. "Y-Yeah. W-w-w-w-we..." his voice trailed off as the words caught in his throat and stubbornly refused to pass his lips. His stutter was getting worse now, and he knew that it was not only due to fear, but the overwhelming knowledge that his brother, Georgie, was probably down here somewhere waiting for him.

"We know what you mean." Beverly said kindly.

Just the sound of her voice was enough to snap Bill out of his thoughts and return him to the matter at hand. He nodded once more and motioned to Richie. "Y-you and E-E-Eddie c-can go to-together. B-Ben and Muh-Mike, you'll t-take care of B-B-B--"

Ben nodded firmly. "Yeah, okay, Bill. We'll watch her."

Mike gave him a reassuring smile and said, "Don't worry, Bill. We're gonna look after each other."

"G-G-Good. I-I'll go by myself. I th-think that I can handle It if I ha-had to."

Beverly's face filled with worry at this and she reached for his hand. Bill felt his face grow hot as she asked, "Oh, Bill, are you positive? Maybe you should come with me, Ben, and Mike."

He shook his head and pulled his hand from her grasp. "N-No, Bevvie, I'm sure. Ju-ju-just go with B-Ben, and Muh-Muh-Mike, okay?"

"Well okay, if that's really what you want." Beverly said as she took a step back and went over to Ben.

The Losers all just stood there in silence for a second staring at each other, and just as the silence threatened to oppress them, to make Bill take it back, make him tell everyone to forget about it, that Stan would be fine, Eddie spoke. "I guess this is it."

"No," Richie said, "this isn't it. We'll meet right back here in an hour, right Bill?"

He nodded. "R-Right Richie."

"And we'll all stay together, and when we find Stan we'll go finish and off It." Ben said with an odd assertion that Bill had never imagined that he could have. Despite his surprise, he nodded.

"R-Right."

Before another long moment of silence could pass, Bill took a step back and clicked his flashlight, making the light pulse before returning to normal. "D-Does everyone ha-ha-have a flashlight?"

Simultaneously everyone answered, "Yeah, enough to go around" and clicked theirs as well. In an instant, a number of other lights blinked then focused on Bill. _Good, _he thought, _everyone group has one..._ This provided him little comfort.

Mike, sensing his discomfort, smiled uneasily. "Well, I guess that we're all set."

Richie nodded and chuckled nervously. "Y-Yep. All set."

And with those last few words of parting, Richie, Eddie, Mike, Beverly, Ben, and Bill all gathered together in a circle and embraced each other tightly.

"Cuh-Cuh-Come on guys, let's g-go save S-S-Stan." Bill said with some difficulty. Everyone nodded and broke apart. Without another word, they backed away and disappeared into the darkness.

Just before Bill himself set off in search of Stanley, he turned and watched Beverly turn and walk off into the darkness with a pained look on his face. Just before her face was completely engulfed by the darkness, she turned and gave him one last strained smile. Her face, from what little Bill could gather in those last few and precious seconds, was tear-stained and, perhaps above all, worried.

And with Beverly's face firmly etched into his inner eye, Bill turned down a separate path, shined his flashlight in front of him, and began to walk. It was then that a sudden and oddly disturbing realization hit him; _She's not worried about herself, she's worried about me! But why?_

And the answer was quite obvious as he sloshed through the sewers of Derry—there were more things to fear in the sewers than just It and the ghost of Georgie Denbrough.


	3. Chapter 3Richie's Final 'Beep'

**Chapter 3**

"I don't understand why Stan just couldn't stand to keep up with the rest of us." Eddie commented as he and Richie trudged through the sewers, the light from their flashlights darting here and there, off walls, and reflecting off the shimmering green surface of the sewer water.

Richie felt Eddie squeeze his hand tightly, as if it was some sort of comfort to him. He rolled his eyes and with his free hand he adjusted his glasses. "Eddie Spaghetti, I swear that if you squeeze my hand one more time..."

"Sorry, Richie, sorry! I guess that I'm just scared is all."

"And I'm not?!"

Eddie looked down, slightly ashamed by what he considered to be baby behavior. "Sorry, Richie." he repeated.

Richie shook his head. "Yeah, well don't be. I'm sorry, Eds, it's just that, well, can ya believe it? Can ya believe that I'm scared?"

"Well, what do you think I am?"

Richie shrugged as he guided Eddie down through the sewers, his flashlight pointed at the ground beneath them. "Stuffed and cooked with ham?" He said this offhandedly, knowing that it sounded absurd, but it was the only nearly witty comeback that he could think of, so he said it anyway.

Eddie didn't seem to see a problem with it, though. He just laughed quietly and whispered, "Beep, beep, Richie."

"Yeah, beep bee—OW!!!" and in an instant Richie had tripped and fallen onto the damp concrete that the sewer water rushed over. Immediately his open mouth was filled with the foul-tasting water, and before he could think of what to do, he felt the ground shake under him and he heard Eddie let out a frantic scream.

Richie gasped as he broke the surface of the water, his glasses foggy and dripping, and tried to get to his feet. He heard the voice of Henry Bowers yell, "Belch, you idiot, I told you to keep him _under _the water!"

Richie grasped in the darkness for his flashlight and felt the handle. He quickly switched it on and was surprised to see Henry Bowers restraining Eddie. He shined the flashlight a ways away, to where Belch Huggins stood. The idiot had an oblivious look on his face as Henry yelled at him once more, "Damn it! Can't you do anything right?!"

" 'M sorry, Henry." was all that he could say.

Richie stared in horror as Henry shoved Eddie at Belch and strode over to him. Richie felt his muscles tense, as if he were some wild animal waiting to pounce his prey, but when he tired to move he found that he was rooted to the spot, totally petrified and immobile. Only when one of Henry's clunky boots collided with the side of his face did he snap back to reality and begin realize the severity of the situation.

The flashlight rolled out of his hand, but Belch leaned over and picked it up. He shined it over to where Richie was lying on the ground in a heap, his glasses cracked and lying at an odd angle on his face. Henry stood above him, laughing. It was then that Eddie began to sob, his whole body shaking. Belch glanced down at him, a slightly concerned look on his stupid face. His once dull eyes now lit up.

"Hey there!" he said almost tentatively, "Stop that!" the command was a weak one, one full of remorse for being spoken, yet it also had a hint of deliverance to it. Mostly it was just brimming with concern as Belch shifted his gaze back to his friend. "Henry, what're you--"

"Shut up and hold him!" Henry yelled as he pulled the glimmering knife from his pocket. With a click the blade popped out, so shining and beautiful that it almost hurt Henry's eyes in the unfamiliar light from the flashlight.

He reached down to where Richie lay, his face immersed in rancid sewer water, and pulled him to his feet. "Hey, kid! Stand up!"

Richie shakily stood his ground, ignoring the weakness in his knees and the pain that was still screaming in his brain from Henry's kick. Another command pierced his brain, this one more insistent than the last.

"Open your eyes, you little pansy! Open your eyes so I can see you die!"

_Can't he do that with my eyes closed? _Richie thought. He had to fight the urge not to laugh as he dared to open his eyes. Henry was glaring down at him, his knife raised and ready. Pure, unfiltered rage shined in his black eyes. His face was twisted in a sort of sick smile that was gradually fading as he stared at Richie.

"What, you think that this is _funny?! _You think that I'm _joking? _You little shit...you little..."

In the back of his head he heard Eddie's distant and nearly inaudible sobs of fear and grief and—was Richie imagining it?—anger. _He's angry because he can't help me...he's angry because he can only just stand there and watch Henry have his fun._

Eddie's teary eyes met Richie's own and for one instant they shared a moment of knowing and acceptance. Just that one moment was enough to put a sort of peace in Richie's heart, so that when Henry forced back Richie's head, further exposing his neck in all its vulnerability, he felt no fear. Not even as the cool blade of the knife, already stained with Stanley's blood, forced its way to his neck did Richie allow a flicker of fear to pierce his heart.

No, instead he thought, _Sure, I don't wanna die, but surely this has to be the best way to go, even better than getting killed by It. I just hope that Eddie Spaghetti can get away or...no, I hope that he goes quickly too. I hope that--_

With sickening ease, Henry slid the knife across Richie's throat, applying just enough pressure so that the skin and vessels were slit. Only when Richie's neck had been slit from end to end and there was a nice, bloody hallow spot exposing his inner throat, did Henry release his hold on Richie and back away. The boy's body fell to the ground with a slosh, sending ripples of water over Henry's boots, washing off some of the blood. With little care he wiped some of the blood off on the knife and onto pants before turning to Belch and Eddie, a satisfied smile plastered on his face.

Eddie looked absolutely horrified as he stared at the bleeding body of his friend. There was so much blood, but there was also something else. In Richie's open and utterly lifeless eyes, Eddie could just see an almost happy look. This was perhaps personified by the fact that Richie's mouth was curled in a slight, perhaps nonexistent, smile, and that the gory, hallow slit across his throat was curved, almost appearing to be a grotesque grin. Eddie felt as if he were about to vomit as Belch took a step away from Henry, dragging him along.

"What we doin' now, Henry? We getting outta here and going home?"

Henry laughed at this, a cold, penetrating sound that almost reminded Eddie of nails running across a chalkboard. In the laugh there was something more, something that sounded like the comical voice of Pennywise, but it was soon lost as Henry began to speak. "Hell no, Belch. No, first I'm gonna kill that squirt right there and then the rest of 'em."

Belch hesitated for a second before asking, "But_ why? _They's just a buncha stupid, dumb kids, Henry. I don't think that they ever did you _that _much harm..."

"You don't think? You don't _think?_" Henry retorted. "I didn't think that you _thought _to begin with, Belch. Now c'mon and stop fucking around. Throw me the squirt and we can move on." he raised his knife. "I'm ready to get it over with."

Eddie looked up and peered into Belch's eyes with one final and silent plead; _Please, please, please don't! Please!_

And Belch stared down at his pale, tear-stained face and then back at Henry. It was no contest. In Belch's mind he figured that he was either going to let Henry kill the squirt, or try to save the squirt and get killed by Henry, and if he did that they would probably both die. With those thoughts in his head, he made his decision, and with surprisingly much remorse in his eyes he pushed Eddie away from him and towards Henry.

Henry smiled and said, almost as if he had read Belch's mind, "Good choice, Belcher." then he turned his attention to Eddie, his knife dripping crimson droplets of blood into the water at his feet. Henry chuckled coldly and whispered, "Oh yeah, we're gonna have a lotta fun, squirt..."


	4. Chapter 4Letting Go

**Chapter 4 **

** Part I**

Eddie's screams echoed throughout the deepest chasms of Derry's sewers. Even Ben, Beverly, and Mike couldn't ignore it as they traveled further into the heart of the disgusting, reeking kingdom of It. As soon as she heard the screams, Beverly stopped walking and her face became ashen.

"What's wrong, Bevvie?" Ben asked as he reached for her hand.

Beverly flinched away and looked around, as if trying to find the place where the screams had originated. They were weaker now, somehow failing. _"RICHIE!!! WAKE UP AND HELP MEEEE!!! PLEEEEEASE!!!"_

Everyone's face fell and they glanced at each other. Mike gasped and the all too familiar panic began to set in. Ever since they had first entered the sewers, there had been a horrible panic in the back of his brain that he couldn't stand. He couldn't fight it, couldn't ignore it any longer, and at the sound of Eddie's screams it brimmed over the edge and became impossible to hold back.

"Oh my God, where's Eddie? What's wrong? Oh my God, what if It got them?!"

Ben, although he was equally as scared, grabbed Mike's arm to keep him from running, and said in the calmest way that he could manage. "Mike, you gotta calm down and stop yelling, okay? You gotta...we gotta..."

"But Ben, they're in trouble!" Beverly sobbed, "We can't just stay calm! We _have _to do something!"

"We can't!" Ben cried. Tears had began leaking down his chubby cheeks.

"But what do we do?!" Mike howled.

"I...I don't know!" he began sobbing now. Beverly sniffled and wrapped her arms around him—or tried too. Ben was a fairly chubby boy.

"We can't just stand here and do nothing. We have to keep going. We have to look for them." she whispered. Ben nodded.

"Yeah, we have to keep going." and he broke away from Beverly and turned to Mike. "We have to keep going, but we can't leave Eddie and Richie. What do we do?"

"You're askin' _me?" _Mike honest to God couldn't believe that they were asking a black kid such as himself for advice. Beverly nodded.

"Yeah, Mike. We need you."

Mike didn't say anything at first; he took a fair two minutes to think the situation over before he finally decided to speak. Finally he said, "I'll double back and look for Eddie. Ben, you and Bev can go and try to help Richie. When we find him we'll have to find Bill and then It and kill It once and for all."

Ben and Beverly nodded. Mike gave them a reassuring smile. "Good, and if we don't find them we'll have to get outta here quick."

"Okay." Beverly and Ben said together. In a second they had all gone their separate ways.

**Part II**

"Beverly, you're shaking."

Beverly, her voice cracking and unsteady, whispered cautiously, "Sorry, Ben. I can't help it." she sighed and flashed the flashlight at the sewer wall. "Where do you think that Bill is? Oh, I can't stand to think that he might be hurt..."

"I'm sure that he's fine, Bevvie. We just have to keep looking is all." Ben reassured her. She nodded and grabbed for his hand. Unlike Bill, Ben didn't try to shake her off, although he did seem a fair bit embarrassed. Still, this somehow comforted Beverly as she and Ben made their way through It's lair.

They rounded the corner of a tunnel and suddenly Ben stopped walking. He looked around and reached for Beverly's flashlight. She gave it to him and watched the golden light dart from wall to wall, then down at the water that steadily flowed at their feet. "What's wrong?" she leaned close to Ben and asked quietly.

She saw him press one of his plump fingers to his lips and motion for silence. Beverly obliged, but when she saw a sudden rippling in the water that flowed beneath them, she let out a shrill scream. Ben's eyes grew wide and he aimed the flashlight to where she was pointing. "What? What is it, Bev?"

"I saw a pair of eyes!" She howled as she backed away and hid behind him. "A pair of great, red eyes! They were _staring _at us, Ben!"

He took a few steps forward and squatted down so that he was a few inches away from the flowing surface of the greenish, foul water. Beverly stayed behind. "What do you see? What is it?"

Ben shook his head. "There doesn't seem to be anything wro--"

In an instant Ben was gone, leaving only ripples and a large splash of water in his wake. Beverly gasped and backed away; It had taken the flashlight along with Ben, so it was utterly and hopelessly dark. Beverly began to pant as she backed away, her hands waving about, trying to feel their way around the endless and winding sewers.

_Ben is gone...oh, dear Lord, what am I going to do now? I wish that Bill were here...well, I wish that we had never separated to look for Stanley..._

Although Beverly hated herself for thinking this, it was a true. It was a dismal fact that she chose to neither rejoice over or grieve over. Instead, she just tried to concentrate on backing away from whatever direction she thought that It had taken Ben. "B-Ben? Are you still there?"

There was no response, so Beverly allowed herself to cry as she tried to feel her away out. It was then that her hand closed on something loose and wrinkling, almost like the fabric of clothes. She let out a relieved little sigh, thinking that it was Ben, but her heart dropped as she heard the voice of the person in the world that she feared the most: "Well hey there, you little bitch. I didn't think that I'd find you down here all alone in the dark, but just before your friend's light went out, hey, whadda know? There you were, clear as day, and there he wasn't...and here _I _am."

Beverly gasped and tried to run away, but a strong hand fell on her shoulder and held her there. "P-Please, just leave me alone. I promise that I'll never say another rotten word about you or run away when you try to hurt me, just please--"

In the darkness she felt Henry's breath warming her cheek as he leaned close and whispered, "You think that I'm really going to fall for that? Huh? Do you? No, not after that day in the dump..." his voice trailed off, but when he heard Beverly let out a terrified little squeal he continued. "Yeah, I saw you outta the corner of my eye. I knew that you were watching me and Hockstetter, and you know what?"

Beverly didn't answer so Henry let out a roar of frustration and shook her. Shakily she sputtered out, "I...I d-don't know."

"After I knocked his block off I glanced over and saw you hiding in one of the fucking rusted cars, and that's just one of the reasons—just one of 'em—that I'm gonna kill you right now..."

The way that Henry had delivered this threat almost sounded comical, but Beverly could not find it in her to laugh, and as the cold steel of Henry's knife forced its way through her skin, she was sill wondering what had happened to Ben Hanscom.

_Lord, I hope that he's okay...I hope that..._

And out of the deepest, perhaps the most unexplored, and otherwise forgotten depths of her mind, she remembered a poem that she had received earlier that summer.

_ Your hair is winter fire._

_ January embers_

_ my heart burns there, too._

And as the sickeningly warm blood began to flow down her torso, she almost smiled. Had it not been for the excruciatingly intense pain that was ripping through her at that moment as Henry stabbed her again and again, Beverly might have felt at peace in her final moments.

Just before what little life was left in her drained out along with the rest of her blood, the dreamlike state of the world returned to normal, and the haiku slipped from her thoughts; she was back in It's rotting, stinking lair, and when Henry was done, It would find her dead and decaying body and feast. Henry Bowers was going to kill Bill, and distantly, so very distantly, she heard Belch Huggins let out a truly disgusting burp.

_Yes, this is how it was meant to happen. _Was her final thought.


	5. Chapter 5The Macroverse Beyond

**Chapter 5**

As Mike Hanlon's screams—following Beverly's shrieks of terror—echoed throughout the sewers, Bill now began to suspect that he was completely alone. He knew this, somehow sensed it as he made his way further up and further into the stinking sewer. It was a fact that had taken him some time to become accustomed to and accept, but he had no other choice. He would have to kill It by himself, as impossible as that now seemed, and put an end it It's reign of terror.

Among this new and rather startling knowledge, Bill also had come to terms with the fact that he would probably never see his friends again, and this hurt him deeply. This hurt him so much that, in fact, he spent the last few feet of his journey into It's lair sobbing and sniffling.

_I can not let It win...I can not cry...I can not...I can...not...I..._

"I _have _to cry." he said aloud now as he stopped walking. In a matter of minutes, it seemed like reality had come crashing down around Bill Denbrough, and it felt as if it were crushing the air out of him with every breath he took, like a deadly snake might do to its prey.

"I-I-I'm suh-suh-sorry...Juh-Juh-Juh..." and his voice trailed off as he lowered his head. _I'm sorry Georgie. _He thought wretchedly as he leaned back against the cool concrete of the sewer wall and closed his eyes.

Thoughtlessly, Bill began repeating a poem that his mother had once recited to him. She had said that it would help him to rid himself temporarily from his stutter when it got too severe. Sometimes it did, and sometimes it didn't, but either way it provided some sort of small comfort for Bill, so he said it with a firm yet failing voice. "He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists that he sees the ghosts. H-H-He th-th—_shit!" _and he broke down and held his head in his hands for one precious moment before he allowed his emotions to spill over and for tears to trail from his closed eyes.

In the back of his mind the insistent voice of It, in all its wretched, horrible glory, began to speak, drowning out every other thought that had been pounding in his brain. It said, _I warned you, I told you what I was, but you didn't listen! Now your friends are dead and it's YOUR fault. They all died horrible, painful deaths because of YOU. It's your fault, it's your--_

"Shu-Shut up!" Bill screamed as he pressed his hands against his ears, silently pleading to God to make the voice stop. It didn't.

Mockingly the voice of It began to whisper in an almost comforting way, _He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists that he sees the ghosts..._

"Sh-sh-sh--"

_They're coming for you now, Billie, they're coming to kill you..._

"Nuh-Nuh-No!" he said as he reached for the flashlight and began to look around the tunnel. "There is no one down here but us, just you and me. Show yourself!"

And out of the corner of his eye, Bill saw something yellow and bright. He looked and gasped. "Juh-Juh-Georgie?"

The little boy in the yellow rain slicker smiled in what was meant to be a sweet way, but it just appeared fake, like the painted-on smile of a clown. Bill backed away from his brother, ignoring the screaming voice in his heart that was commanding him to race forward and embrace him, to tell him how much he loved him, tell him how much he would _always_ love him.

But Georgie just stood there smiling for a moment before he reached into the pocket of his rain slicker. He brought out a perfect boat, made of newspaper and perfectly waterproofed. Still grinning, Georgie bent down and placed the boat into the ever rushing current of the sewer waters beneath his rubber boots. Bill watched as the paper vessel floated leisurely towards him, closer and closer until--

"Hey, Henry, I found 'im!"

Bill gasped and his eyes popped open. Where was he? In his room, sick and waterproofing a newspaper boat for Georgie to take out to play with in the flood waters that still flowed in Derry? Or perhaps he was watching his parents sob as Dave Gardener, who stood there in the doorway with a solemn look, delivered the one-armed corpse of his little brother, watching the little, ruby droplets of blood fall from a tattered fringe of his yellow rain slicker onto the floor. Bill couldn't tell anymore, not even as he heard the approaching, sloshing footsteps of Henry Bowers approaching him.

In a moment he felt himself being lifted to his feet. Bill heard Henry's instructions to Belch quite clearly through his haze of confusion: "Hold him and don't let him go."

Bill felt Belch nod and heard a surprisingly fearful voice say just barely above a whisper, "Yeah, okay, Henry. I'll hold 'im for ya."

"Good." and then Henry said to Bill, "Open your eyes, you little shit. Open 'em so I can see the whites of your eyes."

Though Bill wondered how Henry could do this despite the fact that it was hopelessly dark, he obeyed anyway, and winced as a penetrating, golden light was aimed directly into his eyes. After about a second, though, Bill opened his eyes again, and stared down at the rushing waters below their feet. Henry stood in front of him, sweat dripping from his once perfectly greased-back hair, Bill's flashlight in his hands. His eyes were wide and furious as he stared at Bill.

"So," Henry said, almost panting. The excitement of killing the Losers had taken quite a toll on his health, whether he realized it or not. In fact, one could speculate that Henry was now completely out of his mind more than usual, taking a vacation perhaps, from his usual train of thoughts. In Henry's place Pennywise was active, and Bill could sense this somehow. Of course Henry sounded like _himself_ and he also looked like _himself_, but in some way he had just ceased to be _himself._

Apparently, even the dimwitted Belch Huggins had sensed this, and was taking careful precautions to ensure that his personal self remained unharmed by Henry's madness. So far everything had been going fine, just so long as he did whatever Henry said—_Hold him Belch. _He did. _Don't let him get away, Belch. _He ensured that said kid didn't so much as travel an inch, but if the command came for him to kill, could he do it?

"Hey, Belch! Watch it!" Henry warned, observing the aloof look in his friend's eyes. Belch nodded and his grip on Bill tightened amazingly.

"Right. Sorry, Henry, I just forgot is all."

Bill tired very hard not to scoff. _What a ridiculous way to go, _he thought as he watched Henry nod and say, "Good." then turn his attention back to Bill. Henry's mouth twisted into a sneer as he said in a dangerously quiet way, "So, you wanna fuck with me, do you? You wanna run from me when I try to beat you, you wanna smart mouth me when I'm taking, do ya? Huh, do ya?"

Bill tried very hard to shrug, but found that Belch's grip on him was too tight. Instead he just shook his head. "I didn't do _anything _to you, Bowers, just tried to keep from getting killed."

Henry let out a sudden burst of laughter at this. "_Kill you? _You thought that I was going to _kill you? _No, not before you tried to run away and piss me off, but now you've got me cranked up, so hell yeah, _now _I'm gonna kill you, just for being such a damn smart ass."

And like so many times before, the blade of Henry's knife was pressed against Bill's throat, only this time it wasn't cold, it was warm and sticky with the combined blood of Beverly Marsh, Bill Hanscom, Richie Tozier, Stanley Uris, Michael Hanlon, and Eddie Kaspbrak. Bill didn't really mind this, in fact in a strange way it brought him some comfort. It made him feel as if, though his friends were gone physically, somehow they were still with him, staying close until the end. _I'm going to meet them, I guess. I'm gonna see Georgie again and Bevvie... _

Beverly. Yes, he had to admit that although he was too young for love, if he, Bill Denbrough, had had the opportunity to date, perhaps get married and have kids, he would've wanted it to happen all with her. It may have been an odd thought for a boy of his young age to have, but at that moment Bill aged about a hundred years. He became eternal.

Bill scarcely felt the sharp and immeasurable pain. To him it seemed to all be a passing thing, like some sort of brief phase. Instead of feeling the pain in its entirely, he had the odd sensation of deflating, of almost being like a punctured balloon, one that is hissing and letting out its air slowly. Above all he felt almost revived.

However, all of this provided little comfort as he let himself slip away into the Macroverse that existed beyond, a place where there were no eternal turtles, child eating clowns named Pennywise, or nightmarish sewer monsters. It was a good place, a place where all the unfortunate children who had died early deaths, such as himself, gathered and forgot about the boys that had bullied them or the siblings that had died; it was a glorious place where every horror that they had ever endured melted from their minds, quite similar to the way that ice cream might melt from the cone on a hot summer day.

They became eternal.

* * *

** **A/N** **First off, I'd like to give the usual disclaimer and say that I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story, Stephen King does. Also, I would just like to say that Stephen King's _IT _is probably my favorite book ever written, so with every fanfic that I write in the future I will try and do it the justice that it deserves. Why is it my favorite book? Because it posses a sort of imaginative and unique plot that I do not feel as though other books—regardless if they are under the genre of 'horror' or not—do not have. It is certainly well beyond the realm of just a slice and dice serial killer book. Also, if you are curious, my favorite character is Belch Huggins. Why? Because he burps, his real name is Reginauld, and his last name is Huggins. How could you not love that?

If you like this story and would like to see more _IT _fanfics, please review or add to favs. Either way I will be thrilled. Thanks and, since I am a total hippie, I feel the need to say PEACE & LOVE to you.

Also, one may note that the previously mentioned 'Macroverse' was reffered to in the book as the place where It originated from, and that the 'eternal Turtle' is also a character in the book; I believe that he is It's worst enemy. Just adding this in on the off chance that you don't know...after all, I'm not crazy, right?


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